Page 45 of The Icing on the Cake
He’s hurt—and I just walked away. Even if heisa hockey player, he deserves better.
I stand there for a long moment, torn between going back to help him and keeping my distance. Because distance is safer. Distance will make me stop caring.
He knew I drew a line in the sand when it came to hockey players. And he chose to ignore it. To pursue something with me anyway, without telling me what he really did for a living.
If I go to him now, what other walls will fall next?
Henry whines, nudging my hand with his nose instead of curling up on my bed like usual at this hour.
“What?” I ask him. “You already went outside. And we’renot going back to see Lucian. He can fix himself tonight.” I leave Henry and pace around the living room, trying to forget my injured neighbor.
Henry barks once, standing his ground by the door.
I try to ignore it, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, even though I know I won’t sleep.
Then I spot the first-aid kit on the shelf. Does Lucian even have bandages? Or an ice pack? He just moved to town last month. He probably hasn’t even thought about buying bandages yet.
Henry patters over to me and barks one more time.
“Fine,” I sigh. “You win.”
Five minutes later, I’m knocking on Lucian’s door, first-aid kit in one hand, a bag of frozen peas in the other, and Henry waiting to bolt inside as soon as the door opens.
“Neesha?” He doesn’t hide his shock when the door opens.
“Hey,” I say, unsure how to explain why I’m standing on his front porch with frozen peas and way too much guilt. He looks even worse under proper lighting. His left eye is swollen, his cheek is angry red, and he’s holding his side. He looks like he might pass out from the pain.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say bluntly. “But I can’t sleep, knowing you…” I motion toward his face. “…look like you got hit by a truck. Now, sit down before you fall down.”
He obeys silently, his movements careful as he sinks onto the couch. I set the first-aid kit on the coffee table and hand him the frozen peas.
“Hold this against your eye so you will actually be able to see tomorrow.”
He winces from the cold. “I appreciate it. Even if Ihatefrozen peas.”
“Scoot over, I’m going to check your ribs.”
“Neesha, you don’t have to?—”
“Shirt off,” I interrupt, my tone clinical even as my pulse quickens. I will not make this romantic.I won’t.
He gives me a look likeare you serious?but complies anyway, clearly in pain as he pulls the fabric over his head.
The sight of him, bruised and vulnerable, sends an ache through me that I shove down deep.
“I can go to the doctor tomorrow,” he says. “This really isn’t necessary.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were going to take care of yourself tonight. Do you even have a first-aid kit?”
He shakes his head.
“An ice pack?” I ask.
“Okay, Little Miss Bossy, you’ve made your point. I’ll buy some this week,” he says with a smirk.
Even though his face is a mess of bruises and cuts, his smile still makes my heart flutter.
